


Parallel at Ten and Four

by tamerofdarkstars



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Freckles, Missing Scene, or just a cute little moment, uncomfortable family dinners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamerofdarkstars/pseuds/tamerofdarkstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What could be a missing moment from the first book, or the Team has an awkward family dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel at Ten and Four

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by Volee who asked for Hayffie based on the words freckles, napkin, carpet. <3
> 
> The title is a nod to dining etiquette - as far as I know, when you're done with a meal you're supposed to put your utensils across the plate parallel to each other at the ten and four o'clock positions. I dunno, I eat most of my meals in my pajamas in front of my laptop.

Dinner was always a tense, awkward affair. Katniss picked at her food like it had done her a personal offense while Peeta stared into his glass with a faraway expression, fork limp in his hand. Meanwhile, Haymitch drank and ate and tried to forget that the odds were high that these uncomfortable meals might be these children’s last.

And then there was Effie. Effie Trinket, in her done up, dolled up, made up ensemble who tried so damn hard to make conversation that it made even Haymitch feel just the teensiest bit bad for her. He knew exactly what she was feeling – that sense of inevitable dread that seemed to deaden the air, making it hard to breathe.

But for some reason, it was different this year. This year it felt… worse. The dread felt heavier, the tension thicker. Haymitch found himself drinking more than usual, heart heavy, every time he saw Katniss’s eyes flash in anger or defiance, or Peeta came up with another clever way to play the Capitol like a piano.

Knives and forks scraped against the plates. Across from him, Effie was silent, biting the inside of her cheek as she cut her meat into neat little squares.

There was a clatter as Katniss threw her silverware onto her plate and stood up, chair scraping on the hardwood floor. “I’m finished.” She declared.

Effie blinked. “Then ask to be excused, de—”

But Katniss was already halfway across the room, headed for her bedroom.

The door shut behind her and Peeta cleared his throat into the awkward silence. “Thank you, it was delicious.” He offered, before standing as well.

Effie’s eyes followed Peeta as he too left the room, closing the door much more gently than Katniss had.

Then it was just the two of them.

Haymitch glanced at his plate and wondered if that was his cue.

For several moments, it was painfully quiet. Then Effie cleared her throat.

“I heard they may be putting new carpet in the penthouses.” She murmured.

Haymitch looked up in surprise. Effie wasn’t looking at him – instead, she was focused almost laser-like on her plate, shifting the cubes of meat around into neat rows. Haymitch felt a rare stab of pity and glanced at the Avox standing at attention. She hurried forward and re-filled his glass.

“That’s nice.” He said, realizing that too much time had passed without speaking. He took a long drink.

Effie sighed and stabbed a piece of meat daintily with her fork and put it in her mouth. She picked up her napkin and dabbed at her mouth.

“Uh.” Haymitch pointed at his own face with his fork. “You got a…”

Effie looked up at him and frowned slightly. The smudge of sauce at the corner of her mouth stood out against her pale skin. “I’m sorry, dear, what was that?”

Haymitch pointed again at his own face. “I said you got a… smudge. Of somethin’.”

Effie blinked, uncomprehending, before her eyes widened with horror. “Oh heavens.” She grabbed her napkin hastily and scrubbed at her face.

Haymitch snorted a laugh at her horrified scramble. “Other side, sweetheart.”

Effie glared at him. “Haymitch Abernathy, don’t you dare laugh at me!” She hissed. She wiped at the other side of her face. “Did I get it?”

Haymitch huffed in irritation, throwing down his own napkin and standing up. He leaned across the table and plucked Effie’s napkin from her hand. With his other hand, he cupped her chin and tilted her head up, wiping the sauce off her cheek. Her face was cool against his fingers, the unfamiliar feeling of the chalky foundation staining his fingers.  

Effie spluttered, eyes round as saucers. “Haymitch!” She hissed, staring at him. “What on earth do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m doin’ you a favor.” Haymitch dropped the napkin back on her plate and settled back in his chair. He looked down at his fingers and made a face at the white powder that had smeared over his fingertips from her chin. He chanced a glance back at her from across the table to find her staring at him with a funny look on her face, like he’d completely thrown her for a loop.

Then he smirked. “Nice freckles, sweetheart.”

Effie gasped, scrabbling for her small purse and yanking out a compact mirror. Where Haymitch had wiped the sauce from her face, he’d also smeared away the foundation she’d carefully applied that morning and the smattering of freckles on her skin stood out like stars against an inky sky.

Effie jumped up from the table, chair falling backwards to clatter to the ground. “Please excuse me, Haymitch.” She choked, before turning and half striding, half fleeing somewhere where she could touch up her makeup.

Alone at the dinner table, Haymitch snorted under his breath, shaking his head. He wiped his makeup-covered fingertips on his pants, smearing them with white, before he leaned up and across the table and stole the rest of Effie’s meat.

 


End file.
